


It Might Be Nice, It Might Be Nice

by Politzania



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bartender - Freeform, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Meet-Cute, Skinny!Steve, references to Hamilton
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-11
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-06-01 15:43:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6526225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Politzania/pseuds/Politzania
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James is a bartender,  Steve is a customer, can I make it any more obvious?  Meet Cute fluff with three creeps getting their comeuppance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Might Be Nice, It Might Be Nice

James was working the early shift at the club and it had been pretty dead the whole afternoon. He doubted he’d clear $100 in tips, especially after pooling and splitting with Nat. She’d said he didn’t have to, but after all, she’d gotten him the damn job. And although she was a fantastic bartender, flirting with the customers just didn’t get her very far here. 

He was rearranging the barware for the third time when he saw the blond kid crossing the room. He didn’t look any older than seventeen; but Clint was working the door and his sharp eyes could spot a fake ID from a mile away, so he must be legal, if barely so. On the short side and slightly built, but he was no twink - his body language was all wrong for that. In fact, in his basic t-shirt and jeans, James wondered if he was in the wrong place. But a customer was a customer, so he put his bartender face on and said “Hey - what can I get for ya?” 

“Dunno - what’s good around here?” His unexpectedly deep voice took James by surprise, and the slightly lifted eyebrow and slight smirk told him the kid knew exactly where he was. So James turned on the charm, meeting those bright blue eyes with a sparkle of his own. 

“Try me - your wish is my command. Not a single unsatisfied customer. We do have a special on rum-based well drinks, if you lean that way.” Pierce had gotten in a questionably-sourced shipment that he was desperate to get rid of. 

“Well, after seeing you, a Dark and Stormy comes to mind,” the kid responded, just as flirty. James turned to grab the bottles and heard an unfortunately familiar voice break in. 

“One for me as well, JB - and make the kid’s a double, on my tab.” He hadn’t realized Brock had oozed his way into the club already. James had made the mistake of hooking up with him a few months ago, before he knew what an egotistical, overbearing dickhead the guy was. Huge mistake ... and that had been the only huge thing about that encounter, he thought. 

Just a single shot, please, and I’ll cover my own tab.” His new customer’s response was polite, but firm. “And I’m no kid.” There was a touch of steel in his second response that intrigued James more than it should have. 

“Oooh - feisty! Just the way I like my boys. C’mere, sweetheart. By the way, the name you’ll be screaming out later tonight is Brock.” James turned around just in time to see the arm that Brock had tried to put around his “sweetheart’s” shoulder instead being put in a wrist lock, forced down behind his back, but not painfully so. Not yet. 

“Get the hint, asshole. I’m. Not. Interested,” The blond’s voice was dead serious now, speaking clearly to the bully before pushing him away. Brock made as if to throw a punch at him, but James was already signaling for both Thor and Bruce. You didn’t want to get Bruce angry, and Brock knew that. 

“Well, to hell with you, ya faggot. Probably woulda caught something nasty from you, anyways.” Brock shook himself, then stalked off to the back room. James waved off the bouncers and finished the original request, sliding it over the bar. 

“Here, this is on me. Sorry about that - he’s a friend of the boss, otherwise he’d have been out on his ass a long time ago.” 

“Thanks.” The smile James got in return was all the payment he needed. “So, I’m new to town and...” But Tony was waving frantically from the other end of the bar. 

“Dude, I’m in the weeds over here!” James excused himself to put together Tony’s drink orders, and by the time he returned, his customer had found himself approached by another admirer. 

“Mister Barnes - my favorite barkeep! Meet my new friend, Steven. Set us up with two blow jobs, if you please.” Obie was another old pal of Pierce’s - emphasis on “old”. And apparently Steven was just his type. James doubted the reverse was true, but he got out two shot glasses with flared rims and prepared the drinks. They were a little sweet for his taste, with the Kahlua and Baileys, to say the least of the whipped cream on top, but popular at the club for obvious reasons. 

Steven reached out for his, but Obie caught his hand and pinned it to the bar. “No, my dear, like this.” He bent down to the bar, taking the rim of the shot glass in his teeth and throwing his head back to drain the glass. He dropped the empty glass into his hand, then licked the whipped cream off his lips wolfishly. “Your turn.” 

Steven shot a glance at Obie and pulled his hand away. He then looked directly at James, keeping eye contact as he leaned down to wrap his lips deliberately around the rim of his own glass, coming back up slowly and gracefully. He tilted his head back much farther than necessary, then -- good lord -- slid his tongue into the glass to lick it clean. James found himself gripping the edge of the bar, as his knees had just gone weak. 

Steven pulled the glass out of his mouth with an obscene pop, then gently set it on the bar. “Thanks for the drink, gramps,” Steven replied to Obie in a thick Brooklyn accent, “but I’ll pass on the real thing.” 

James stifled his laughter - Obie hated it when anyone called attention to his age. The older man angrily threw a few bills on the bar and stalked away. “Another friend of management?” Steven asked. 

“Yeah, him too.” 

They glanced down at the bills - a twenty (surely an accident) and a ten. “Nice tip.” 

“I feel like I should give the cash to you as some sort of prize. You haven’t been here ten minutes and you’ve managed to get hit on by two of our creepiest customers. I think that’s a record! At least now I know your name.” 

“Yeah, I go by Steve, Steve Rogers. Not sure why Obie Ken-oldie tacked the N on the end.” He grinned and held out his hand. James shook it, trying to ignore the electric shock he felt at the strength behind the grip. This guy was definitely more than he seemed, and James was always a sucker for a quick wit 

“I’m James, in case you didn’t see the nametag. James Barnes.” That broke the ice, and they chatted amicably inbetween customers. 

“My Shot” started playing over the sound system, and Steve’s face lit up. “I love this show! Who’d have thought a hip hop musical about a Founding Father would be so amazing? ” 

“I know - I’ve already got a ticket for when it comes to town next month.” James replied. 

“I saw the show with most of the original cast the last time I was back home. ” 

“You lucky bastard!” James teased, “I thought that Brooklyn accent you laid out on Obie sounded familiar. I’m from Red Hook, but moved out here about five years ago. Uh oh - incoming!” 

He’d spotted Justin fucking Hammer weaving unsteadily in their direction. And fucking was definitely on Hammer’s mind, as he practically draped himself over Steve, saying “Hello gorgeous! Let me drag you out on the dance floor and do filthy things to you.” 

“Sorry, I don’t dance,” Steve replied, attempting to extricate himself from Hammer’s overenthusiastic embrace without getting groped any further. 

“Oh, you can’t tell me that magnificent ass doesn’t know how to bump and grind, darling.” 

“Only with the right partner, and believe me, you are not it.” Steve finally got free and stepped away from the grabby drunk. “Now piss off.” 

“Don’t make me hose you down with the soda water again, Hammer,” James warned. He was only half-joking, remembering the impromptu wet t-shirt contest that had resulted the last time. There had been a hell of a mess to clean up afterwards, but it was his best night for tips ever. 

“Oh, you’re a damn spoilsport, Jimbo. I bet you just want this sweet boy for yourself. Fine - I can take a hint,” Hammer pouted, and flounced off. 

“And there’s the trifecta,” James said, as Steve sat back down on the barstool across from him. “I’m surprised you haven’t fled screaming into the night.” 

“I don’t scare easily. Besides, looks like I’ve got a good reason to stick around ... assuming Gropey McGrabass was right.” Steve smiled as he looked James up and down. “When’s your shift over?” 

“How about right now?” James untied his apron; five minutes wasn’t going to make much of a difference either way. If on cue, “Helpless” came up on the sound system. He wasn’t quite there, not this quickly, but he could definitely see it from here. He tossed his fellow bartender his bundle of tips. “Nat - I’m outta here. I trust you to divvy things up nice and fair.” He then jumped the bar to land in front of Steve. “So, where are you taking me?” 

“No guarantees about it changing your life, but how about the diner around the corner?” Steve replied smoothly, responding just as James had hoped. 

“By all means, lead the way.”

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, Hamilton has been in heavy, heavy rotation on my playlist lately! 
> 
> If you liked this bit of meet-cute fluff, let me know either here and/or over on [ Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/poliz-writes)


End file.
